


Dancing in the Dark

by Erasing_Mike



Category: The Young Pope (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dancing, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Will add more tags as I go, sorta?, though that never really happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24614245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erasing_Mike/pseuds/Erasing_Mike
Summary: Take a walk through the Vatican at night, you never know what you might find. It might as well be a dancing Cardinal.Or, the story of how Cardinal Gutierrez found out about Cardinal Assente’s nighttime dancing and the story of the bond that developed between them afterwards.
Relationships: Mario Assente/Bernardo Gutiérrez, Mario Assente/Luigi Cavallo
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely, 100% inspired by Maurizio Lombardi’s Night Dancer on Ig, and probably some conversation on Discord, though it’s been so long since I’ve written this first chapter I can’t quite remember. It’s the first time I commit to a multi chapter fic, so please be patient with me. Also, I’m going to stay faithful to what happens in TYP/TNP, so get ready for Angst and enjoy!

The first time he saw him dance, it was entirely by accident.  
It was the middle of the night, and the newly appointed Cardinal Gutierrez was wandering restlessly around the halls of the Vatican. It was just a few days before he was supposed to leave for New York to try and solve the Kurtwell case, and his mind was running wild, fueled by anxiety and doubt. Even though he felt very deeply and personally about the matter, he couldn't help but think he was the wrong person for the job: if just the thought of having to leave the Vatican, the very buildings and hallways that had held him in the safety of habit for what had become most of his life, was keeping him from sleeping, how could he survive in the outside world, let alone investigate on a man with no proof against him and a whole system defending him, having no previous experience on that sort of job? He trusted the Pope and thus he trusted his choice, but it would take a miracle to manage to succeed.

These and many other thoughts of the sort were going through his mind, keeping him awake; in a last attempt at tiring himself out, he started walking around the hallways, looking for calm and sleep he knew couldn’t come to him, when he stumbled across someone he definitely didn’t expect to see.

In the middle of the corridor stood, or rather danced, Cardinal Assente.

Bernardo didn’t have much of an issue recognizing him: after all, the former prefect for the congregation of the clergy was quite striking in his height and figure, always the tallest and leanest of the group of people he was talking to. Even as he was seeing him now, wearing simple striped pajamas (even though he was quite sure they were made out of comfortable and rather expensive material), with only the cross and ring he was still wearing reminders of his role, he was extremely recognizable in his unique physicality(which happened to be extremely attractive to him, though that thought had to be swifty repressed, as it was unbecoming of a priest, and especially of a cardinal - despite what everyone seemed to be doing in the spare time, as the gossip never ceased to tell; he briefly wondered, and then denied to himself that he did, which of the rumors he heard about Assente were true).  
He was quickly brought away from his wandering thoughts by the inexplicable magnetism of presence in front of him; he found himself unable to move in fear of interrupting the delicate grace of the dancing man, who moved his thin and agile limbs in the air, prompted by music only he could hear, or perhaps silence itself.   
He didn’t seem to be following any sort of rhythm or tune discernible from the quiet around them, but he moved with purpose and elegance, stretching and then bringing back his graceful limbs, then rolling his torso and hips in hypnotizing movements, or making almost imperceptible movements with his fingers. He danced like he’d never seen anyone else do, almost as if telling stories or recounting some mystery, one moment royal and the next beggar, or miraculous being.   
Gutierrez stood there for moments that felt like hours, stuck in place by the wonderful performance he was privy to, before coming back to his senses, turning around and going back on his steps, so as not to get caught staring and as not to disrupt the quiet peace the other man was in, one that he knew was hard to find when you had secrets to hide in the Vatican, probably already known by the likes of Voiello but still ones that could ruin one’s career.   
When returned to his rooms, he found himself more relaxed even if still unable to sleep, and lost himself in the fleeting memory of the almost miraculous appearance he had seen, of the enchanting feelings of freedom those moves transmitted, which managed to somewhat soothe his anxieties.  
During the long plane ride the following day, as he was trying to calm his nerves, which couldn’t overwhelm him so easily if he wanted to succeed in his mission, he distracted himself by contemplating if he could ever feel the freedom Cardinal Assente seemed to feel or at least expressed; if he could find that clarity outside of the walls that had kept him safe yet caged for years. Maybe dance wasn’t what was going to do it for him, but it had sparked something, a desire to truly find himself, to not be afraid anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the incredibly late update! I’m not used to multi chapter things, but I’ll try and post more often, especially since I’ve already most of it planned and quite a bit written. For now, enjoy!

The trip back to Rome had been long and exhausting, but Gutierrez still found himself unable to sleep from the excitement of having closed the case and being home once again. A little guilty and a little intimidated by his not very pure intentions, he let himself walk those familiar corridors once again, seeking the lone dancer in the middle of the night, hoping it would bring him peace from his racing thoughts.

It’s not as if he’d been obsessing over that night of months before, but he had to admit memories of it had crossed his mind a few times during his mission, on long days and lonely nights in which his thoughts alternated between desperation and determination, as his stay in the US became as much a journey of self discovery as it was an investigation. Alone in his hotel room, contemplating his life and choices, the image of what had become a sort of symbol of freedom to him had come back to his mind, connected with similar thoughts and reasonings on said concept and on that of identity, the very ones that lead him to “confess” to the Pope as he came back to the Vatican (was it a confession when the other already knew, was he still a coward for choosing someone who already cared about him for that kind of conversation?). 

Still wary and run down by his own thoughts, but with a clarity he had never felt before (and dare he say some sort of confidence?), he walked the corridor for the first time in months, finding him there as if he knew he was needed, flowing with the rhythm of life in movements he hadn’t seen any other make, no dancer and no artist of any other kind: elegant arms moving in swift stretches and large arches, stopping suddenly then proceeding in stiff movements, indicating a path of sorts; legs following the movement or going elsewhere, sometimes in steps light as if he were flying, sometimes heavy as if seeking a connection with the very center of the Earth. Every movement started from precise tilts of skinny hips, sensual to the point of being hypnotizing, all perfectly coordinated in its spontaneity, as if moved by something or someone other than the one who the body belonged to. 

And, much like the first time, Bernardo just couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

He briefly wondered why he danced in the middle of the corridor instead of somewhere more private (it was convenient for him as a spectator, but probably not the sort of thing a cardinal would want to be caught doing); as he kept on watching he realized the other man wasn’t completely conscious as he moved, as if experiencing some sort of trance, his body led by some force stronger than himself. Bernardo found himself stuck in that state of semi awareness as well, following those movements with his eyes for as long as he could allow himself to do. Eventually he went to bed, led by the dancing man into dreams of wonderful music, otherworldly and never heard before, and a lone dancer following it, creating shapes and objects, a world born out of the music and rhythm of life.

Little by little it became a routine of sorts: Gutierrez snuck out most nights, whether out of genuine lack of sleep or just a desire to find where the dancer had gone to that day (he moved in every direction, exploring all parts of the building),finding the best hiding places where he could observe him, letting himself get lost in his thoughts and in the sight before him. He felt a bit guilty for intruding in such an intimate moment, but to him it felt like a blessing of sorts, a small miracle that took him away from the restrictions of the life he had chosen for himself, made him lose all the heaviness of everyday life, giving him clarity, bringing him in an almost meditative state, where he could reason on the day’s happenings or take a break from his worries to watch the other man dance when he felt his feelings get the better of him. It felt nice to share those moments, to have that connection, even if it was one sided, and if some of the thoughts he had were not as pure as others, the peace he received, which in turn let him perform his daily duties better, was surely a good enough excuse for a little sin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow actually posting every week sounds fun. Let’s see what will happen now that I’m out of already written words. I quite like this chapter, so I hope you’ll enjoy it as well!

Things eventually had to change, and it happened the night after they came back from Venice after leaving Pius XIII in a medically unexplainable coma.

The couple of days that they spent in the city had been incredibly heavy on Bernardo’s mental state (it wasn’t everyday the Pope fainted in your arms and went into a coma immediately afterwards, after all, and the pr hell that it entailed for everyone near him in that moment demonstrated it). The situation alone would have been enough to bring him to the ground, as he was devastated by what felt like (and seemed very likely to be) the loss of a good friend. The bureaucracy that followed such an unexpected event, a neverending stream of declarations to sign and reports to police and medical staff alike, had completely annihilated him (and to think it would have been so much worse had Voiello not dealt with everything he could personally). 

Which was ultimately the reason why, when he went for his now almost nightly walk, he didn’t stop and find a place to sit, but instead walked on absentmindedly, thus bumping into the dancing man and startling him out of his dance induced trance, mid movement and unaware. 

Bernardo, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt at interrupting the other man and at being caught, could only ask if he was alright. 

The other man answered with a confused “sì”, still taking in his surroundings. 

“I don’t get distracted from dancing very often.” he followed in a low voice, as if talking to himself, before coming to his senses and looking up at the other man with what seemed to Bernardo like a mix of confusion and shame, a hint of a blush resting on his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone else. But I have to admit I’ve been watching you dance for a while, I really admire your elegance”. 

Of course the first thing he said to him was a confession of how much he’d become intrigued by him. If anything, he was being honest, and that was the only excuse he had for himself in that moment.

The answer he received from his comment on the dancing man’s performance wasn’t at all what he thought it would be. He expected anger or embarrassment at such a violation of his privacy, at having someone else see those moments of absolute and private genuinity. He did not expect the blush and small smile that appeared on the other cardinal’s face. “That’s not the problem. I knew you were watching me, I saw you a few times. I was quite curious if you’d even come and talk to me. I guess we’ll never know that, after all it was an accident that you interrupted me tonight. If I may ask, what is troubling you so much tonight? It’s about Pius XIII’s coma, or isn’t it? I’ve heard people saying you were close”

Gutierrez, who couldn’t know how fast the other man’s heart had started beating during their conversation, and thus was surprised by being asked about his own wellbeing and by the care that the question demonstrated, had to answer honestly. He confess the anxiety over dealing with the press and the loud people that surrounded them as they were making their way around Venice and then back to Rome, the stress of having to explain to doctors what had happened when there was no health issues to worry about, and finally the absolute worry over a dear friend and an incredible person he had just started to truly understand and wanted to keep close to for a while longer. 

He returned to reality, feeling a bit better, and turned to the other man to apologize for his rambling, but Assente beat him to it.

“Don’t worry about it”, he said with a small smile “Even though I can’t say I share your opinions and experiences towards our Pope, it is so rare and beautiful to hear such kind words. It’s nice to know there are still pure souls like yours in this world”. 

The conversation ended there, as Gutierrez couldn’t find an answer to what he considered high praise from the man(he didn’t know if it was true, how could his soul be pure when his intentions and actions in so many contexts, including the one that got them to speak to each other in the first place, were not very innocent?). After a while of sitting together in comfortable silence, unaware that they were thinking of each other, they just stood up and went to their respective rooms, with the conscience of the connection that had just been made. 

That night established a bond between the two men, and new habits in their nightly meetings: most of the time Bernardo went to see the other man dance (though now it wasn’t a secret anymore), and each of them in their own ways cleared out the thoughts that burdened them during the days. Some days though, when either of them felt like talking, they sat next to each other and chatted the night away, confessing fears and hopes and helping each other through their struggles. 

It didn’t last very long, as once Francis II became pope they had to stop, in fear that the monks patrolling the Vatican would have found them in a situation that wasn’t really incriminating, but still hard to explain in a rational way to others. Mario also didn’t feel comfortable knowing he could have had an unwanted audience, and started locking himself in his room to dance so that he didn’t risk being seen.

Shortly afte the death of Francis II they left for England, and whet happened there made things a bit more complicated.


End file.
